The Mariner's Knot
by Gamemakers
Summary: It's simple: Annie Cresta won the 65th Hunger Games at fourteen, and five years later, she's asked to help sixteen-year-old Finnick Odair navigate his own arena. Or, that is, it really ought to have been simple.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Rated T for violence and references to sex.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Some anger burned hot, but Mags' was cold as ice. Annie allowed it to drift over her as she stared down at her salad dish, imagining that she could see the green leaves slowly wilting under the weight of the dressing.

The anger's target had less tact. "Well, I figured that if I was going to win the Hunger Games, the first step was to volunteer."

"At sixteen."

"Yes." He was only going to get himself in even deeper trouble. Annie glanced up to offer her own tribute a small, tight, but hopefully reassuring smile. Alyssa had done exactly as was expected of her. She shouldn't have to sit through this, but right now, Annie had no means of rescue to offer.

Unfortunately for both of them, Mags showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. "When we had older tributes selected and ready to go."

"I won my last sparring matches against Darren and Lochlan. I should be the one going into the Arena, not them." Had he really? Annie peered over at him. He obviously hadn't quite finished filling out yet, but Finnick Odair already stood a couple inches over six foot, and he had broad shoulders and muscular arms to match. Maybe he really had managed to beat the older boys Mags had selected to volunteer that year. "And anyway," he added, "it's all luck. They had just as much of a chance of getting picked as I did. I just happened to be the one that got picked out of the bucket."

"Reaping Bowl," Octavius corrected, his first contribution to the conversation thus far. Annie admired his restraint. A full-blown argument between mentor and mentee before they had even reached the Capitol would surely make for prime gossip. It was only human to want to stoke the fires a bit.

"Reaping Bowl, sure. Whatever."

"But they won't have the opportunity next year, and now our pool of boys to pick of in two years is one peson smaller. I picked Darren and Lochlan for a reason, believe it or not."

The high-speed trains that crisscrossed Panem were marvels of modern engineering. They glided over their tracks in almost perfect silence, assuring the utmost in comfort for their privileged passengers. Right now, the room was quiet enough that Annie could hear the engine's hum from the other compartment. The moment stretched out long enough for her to finish the last few bites of her salad. It was good. The food always was. The Capitol had to make the details beautiful so no one bothered to step back and see how ugly it was as a whole.

Finnick relented first. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about it like that, and it was stupid of me."

"At least we agree on something." Mags turned back to her own plate. "Now, if everybody's done with their salad, I suppose we can stop scaring the Avoxes away for long enough for them to drop off the main course, yes?"

* * *

After dinner, they split up so the mentors could consult with their tributes individually. Alyssa waited as Annie locked the door to her compartment behind them. The poor girl, for even though Alyssa was only a few months younger than Annie herself, she could think of her as nothing else, stood in the center of the space, looking around with wide eyes and wringing her hands. "You can sit on the bed or the chair if you'd like."

She sat down on the very edge of the chair, sitting on her hands to stop herself from wringing them. "I'm not going to win, am I?"

Annie bought herself an extra second to answer by moving the throw pillows off the bed so she could sit. "If I knew that, I think I could make a lot of money betting on the Games." Well no, she couldn't, as former Victors were barred from gambling, but that was a technicality.

"But I'm going to lose. Finnick's going to win."

"I don't know that."

"You think it."

She chose her words carefully. "If you had told me right after I'd been reaped that I was going to win, I wouldn't have believed you. I was fourteen and even shorter and skinner than I am now, and Seannan, my district partner, was eighteen and had about a hundred pounds of pure muscle on me. It seemed like all the other tributes did too. I'll give you one guess who won."

Alyssa met her with a level gaze. "You've seen Finnick. Do you really think there's any chance that the gamemakers are going to pick me over him?"

A shiver crawled down her spine. "Don't talk like that. The gamemakers might have the control panels, but they don't decide the Games. That's up to us."

"They sure do seem to have a lot of pretty Victors –"

"I told you not to talk like that," Annie snapped. The trains were some oef the most closely monitored places in Panem. Alyssa would do well to keep quiet about any suspsicions she had about the fairness of the Games, particularly if those suspicions were correct. "You've trained for ten years to win this thing. Don't give up before you've even stepped foot in the Arena."

Alyssa didn't say anything, but she didn't back down either. There was the fighting spirit she would need going forward. Annie sighed. "So, you've got me here. Any questions you want to ask? Got any ideas of a strategy yet?"

The girl shook her head. "Not beyond the basics."

"Well, the basics seem like as good a place to start as any. Mags told me you were good with knives. Let's hear about it."

* * *

"Hey."

Annie jumped at the sound of his voice, and her hands immediately went down to the tie on her bathrobe, making sure it was cinched tight.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You couldn't fall asleep either, huh?"

"Just woke up and thought I'd grab some water." No, she hadn't. Her voice would be rougher if she had just woken up, and her hair would be messed up from laying in bed, not still in the perfect curls she had worn at the Reaping. Finnick wasn't going to call her on it, though. He instead admired her legs as she got up on her tiptoes to grab a cup from the top shelf. By the time she turned around, he was innocently staring out the window.

"The views are really nice," he said.

"Definitely. It's neat to be able to see so much of Panem." She sat down on the couch across from him and tucked her bathrobe underneath her. "Though I'm not sure how much you can see, considering that it's pitch black out there."

"There's enough moonlight to make out the basics."

"I guess." Annie took a drink from her glass. "Maybe I've just been spoiled by seeing it during the day."

He leaned back into the wonderfully soft cushions. "I think it'd be easy to get spoiled by all this. It's all so amazing."

"This is very bare bones compared to the Capitol. Everything there is just…" she shook her head, and the moonlight danced over her hair. "It's insane is what it is. I mean, it's beautiful, gorgeous really, but it's all so over the top that I still don't even know where to start, you know?"

Finnick shook his head. "I guess I'll find out tomorrow."

She laughed. "I guess you will."

Her smile was so inviting that he couldn't help but be drawn in. Her empty glass sat off to one side, but he didn't want her to go back to her compartment just yet. "So, um." She watched him expectantly. How had he never really noticed her before? He'd known who she was for years, of course. Everybody knew the Victors. But even though he saw her multiple times a year for the reapings, and the Victory Tour, and the interviews that all the Victors did, Finnick had never realized how pretty Annie Cresta was. "Are you looking forward to going back?"

It was as though a metal curtain slid into place at those words. Her eyes went from warm and friendly to cold and distant in an instant. "Kind of. It's a nice change of pace, and I've got a few friends among the other Victors that I'm happy to see, but I always end up missing Four while I'm there."

"Oh." Something told him that apologizing for asking that question wouldn't be the best idea. "I've never been away from my family for more than a night before." He hated those words the minute they left his mouth. Finnick wasn't a child, and he certainly didn't want her to see him as such.

"I hadn't either before my Games. I don't think most tributes have." She let those words marinate for a moment. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear it." She moved to sit next to him and looked out the window. "I think that's District Three out there. Do you see the tower?"

He tore his gaze away from her and studied the dark landscape before him. Far away, sitting on the very edge of the horizon, he could make out a needle-like tower. "Yeah, I see it. What's it for?"

"No idea, but I remember seeing one a lot like it when I was in Three for my Victory Tour."

"Huh." Her hand was only an inch away from his. He scooted a little closer, brushed his hand against hers, watched her face for any hint of a negative reaction. When she made no move to pull away, he covered her hand with his own. "How about you? Are you all right?"

Annie thought about that one for a minute before she shrugged. "I'm a little lonely, but I'll be all right." She gave him another one of those stunning smiles. "Don't you worry about me."

"I'll stay with you. You don't have to be alone." His voice came out huskier than he intended it, and her green eyes widened.

She laughed uncomfortably, but still, she didn't pull away. "Thanks for the offer, but I don't think that would be appropriate. Relationships between mentors and tributes need to stay professional. They've actually got rules against sleeping with your tributes."

"You're not my mentor." That hadn't been what Finnick was hinting at, but now that the idea was out in the open, he had to admit it sounded pretty good. After all, what kind of sixteen-year-old wouldn't want to sleep with a beautiful older girl? And since Annie had brought it up, she must have been thinking about it, so…

"But I am a mentor. It's a bad idea."

"I wouldn't tell anyone."

Annie shook her head. "It's not that simple, all right? And even if it were, you're sixteen. No matter how mature you think you are, that's still a minor."

"You know, it's kind of interesting."

"What is?" she asked.

"In all of this, you not wanting to sleep with me hasn't come up once. Why don't you just do whatever you want? You're a Victor. What can they really do to you?"

"You know what, you're completely right. That's definitely the best solution to this little problem." Wait, really? He hadn't expected her to be convinced that easily, but then again, she hadn't needed too much convincing. She kissed him on the top of the head and pulled her hand out from underneath his. "Goodnight, Finnick. If you need anything, press any of the glowing orange buttons, and an attendant will be right with you."

He watched the sway of her hips as she disappeared down the into the next compartment.

* * *

 **A/N:** Ideally, I'll be posting one chapter a day for seven days for the shipping week challenge on Caesar's Palace, which I would definitely recommend checking out. The catch is that none of this is pre-written, as for the challenge, you have to write the chapter on the day you post. We'll see how that works out. It might end up being more of a shipping fortnight.


	2. Chapter 2

Once the train station came into view, Octavius pulled him away from the window. "Come on now, act like an adult. We do want to make a good first impression." He fixed Finnick's hair with his fingers. "That's much better. Alyssa?" Their escort gave her a quick once-over. "Lovely as always. All right, everyone! Are we ready?"

"You bet," Finnick answered. He was the only one. Alyssa managed a weak smile that only succeeded in making her look nauseous.

Annie had been kind of distant during breakfast, pale and jumpy whenever anyone said anything to her. Now, she seemed about ready to faint. He wanted to put an arm around her, assure her everything was going to be fine, but Finnick had seen similar signs in his sister often enough to know that might not be appreciated. He shot her a quick smile. "Are you all right?"

"No," she gasped out. She was swaying on her feet, her eyes impossibly wide.

"Annie, are you going to –" His next words were lost as the doors opened and the lights of a thousand flashes burst like supernovae into the compartment.

She ran then, and Finnick could do nothing but watch as she dashed towards the back of the train. He tried to follow her, but Mags stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "No, I'll take care of her. You go out there and smile."

"But I want to –"

"What did I say?" She pushed him towards the door. "Listen to me. It'll be better for the both of you. Come on now. You too, Alyssa. Get out there."

Finnick nodded and swallowed around the lump in his throat. After a quick breath to steady himself, he stepped off the train and into the hailstorm of camera flashes.

"Finnick!"

"Finnick!"

"Finnick, over here!" His name was coming at him from all directions, with directions to smile or requests to answer a quick question. Finnick couldn't begin to keep up. He settled for grinning like an idiot at anyone who was holding a camera. He didn't feel too bad about it. They all looked like idiots too, with their hair done in every color of the rainbow and garish outfits to match. He was momentarily blinded by the reflection off someone's watch or bracelet or enormous diamond earrings. Hoping the cameras hadn't caught too embarrassing of a picture of him in that moment, Finnick laughed it off and looked back towards Alyssa. "Some welcome, huh?" He had to shout to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

She winced when a reporter shouted too close to her ear. "It's definitely something."

"Come on, Finnick, over here."

"Finnick, what are your plans for the Games?" A microphone was shoved in his face.

His mind raced with possibilities, but more often than not, the easiest answer was the best. "I'm going to win."

* * *

"Breathe, child, breathe."

Annie gasped, only to choke on what little air she managed to suck in. The black at the edges of her vision crept in further like sharks circling a bleeding swimmer, and her fingernails dug into the soft flesh beneath them. It was real, it was real, everything else wasn't, and no matter how many times she repeated that, it never became true. There was a hand on her back. Witch-like claws scraping against tender skin, slicing her into ribbons they could hang up as party decorations. It could be next season's biggest trend. "Annie. Annie, I need you to breathe. Calm down for me, child."

This time, she managed a real breath. It burned in her lungs, but it was air. "Just like that. Another one." Mags brushed Annie's hair back from her face with gentle fingers. "There you are. Don't you worry, you'll be all right. I sent Liam along ahead to fetch your medicine. He'll be back any moment with it. Until then, you need to keep breathing and stay with me, you hear?"

She clenched her eyes shut and buried her head further into Mags' lap. Every breath shook her body, and it felt as though the world could collapse from underneath her at any instant. "He'll be back, Annie. You're going to be all right, child, you know that? You're such a brave girl."

Then why was she curled up in fetal position and sobbing? If she was truly brave, she would be out there, smiling for the cameras, pretending like nothing was wrong because it wasn't, not really. They wouldn't touch her, not while she was mentoring. They had prettier Victors for that. They didn't need Annie Cresta, didn't want her. Even the Capitol's silliest could manage some sense sometimes. "I'm not," she choked out, spitting on Mags' lap in the process. She would have to wash that now, all because Annie couldn't control herself. She wrecked everything she touched. They should send her away somewhere where she couldn't hurt anything except herself, leave her there alone forever, and maybe they could all be happier that way.

Mags' voice was a rope pulling her back to shore. "Yes, you are. You're doing well, staying here with me when it would be easier to slip away." Mags stroked her cheek. "I think I can hear Liam. Can you? He's always been a quiet bugger. Used to drive me mad with his sneaking about."

"Is she all right?" This voice was male and familiar, and Annie couldn't bring herself to care much beyond that.

"She will be. Do you have her medication?" Something rustled behind her. "Annie, child, I need you to sit up. We've got your pills for you. Can you take them dry, or do you need water?" Her eyes opened to a world made of fire. Everything was far too bright, burning at her eyes, and then the world spun around her in huge dizzying loops like the Capitol rides that spun you and turned you upside down and made you feel inside out when you stepped off.

Mags pressed a glass of water to her lips and a tablet into her hand, and Annie clutched the tiny yellow pill like the lifeline it was. "Swallow it. It'll make you feel better."

Her throat felt so, so dry, but she did as Mags said. For a few seconds, she could see the marionette strings holding up the world around her, could see how slim the strings were, how easily they could snap, but then the morphling kicked in, and everything returned to a hazy kind of calm.

She heard Liam's voice hovering at the very edges of her consciousness. "I'm going to call for a car to come pick us up. I'll tell them to come right up to the train. The press is going to have enough fun with this as is. We don't need to give them any more ammo."

* * *

After the attack on the train, Annie made a point of avoiding all human contact. She couldn't wish herself away from the Capitol, but locked in her room with the image of the waves playing out on every wall, she could at least pretend she was back home. Four's other Victors told her they would take care of Alyssa while she rested. It wasn't any trouble at all, Mags had comforted her. The other Victors were perfectly happy to stand in for Annie the first day, maybe the second if she needed it, and really, it'd be good for the girl to get multiple perspectives on how to prepare for the Arena.

Annie knew lies when she heard them. Sometimes, they were sweet enough to believe anyway.

The guilt of it gnawed at her. She owed Alyssa every piece of advice she could scrounge up, but instead she hid in her room, alone and afraid. Still, it wasn't enough to tempt her outside. The clock cycled through the hours, the waves on the walls ebbed and flowed with the tides in a cheap knockoff of the actual thing, and she waited. Voices filtered in through the walls, dulled just enough that Annie couldn't make out their words.

Only when night had fallen and the voices had long since disappeared did she emerge from her room in search of something to eat. The smooth marble floor was cold against her bare feet as she padded towards the dining room. The people here always kept food out overnight, as they couldn't even be bothered to make themselves a snack if they woke up hungry. Usually, she scoffed at their laziness, but tonight, as she took that first bite of some kind of whipped chocolate dessert, Annie could appreciate to always have something out and ready to eat. She still felt guilty when she left her dirty dish out for the Avoxes to clean up tomorrow morning, but there was nothing she could do right now to clean it.

Annie had determined her trek outside a success and was on her way back to her room when she heard them. Alyssa moaned again, louder this time.

"Shh, you're gonna wake someone up," Finnick laughed. The boy sure moved fast, didn't he? If he had any sense, he wouldn't try to get too close to any of the other districts' girls. He'd end up with a knife in the back for sure.

She would have to talk privately with Alyssa about this. Annie understood the need for comfort in these trying last few days before the Games, but Alyssa couldn't let attraction cloud her judgment, not when there was so much to lose.

Annie shook her head at the next moan. That discussion could wait until morning. If Alyssa wanted to have a little fun before she went into the Arena, Annie wasn't going to stand in her way.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, Finnick." She had spent much of dinner trying to come up with a better way to broach this subject, but Annie hadn't found any. "What's the story there?

"What about him?" Did Alyssa really think Annie was that blind? That first night, she and Finnick had at least tried to hide it, but nobody could have missed those dances during dinner or how close to one another they stood as they waited for the elevator.

Annie shook her head and sunk further back into her room's couch. "Just don't do anything stupid because of him, all right?"

"Of course I won't."

That remained to be seen, but for the moment, Annie let it slide. "How was training today? They had already gone over this at dinner, but some things were better kept between mentor and mentee. Annie suspected that she would spend the last days of the Games scurrying around the Capitol, doing everything she could to ensure Finnick's victory, but for now, he was the competition. They would both do well to remember it.

Alyssa shrugged. "Not too much beyond what we already talked about."

Annie could tell the other woman wanted to say something more. "But?" she prompted.

A frown creased her forehead. "I can't get a good read on the One girl. She's… off."

"How?"

"She's not _enough_. The abilities – at least the ones she sows during training – just aren't there. She's not that good-looking, not even on a regular year and definitely not compared to Finnick, so she's not trying to play that angle. But she volunteered, and it scares me that I can't figure out why."

"It wouldn't be the first time someone's tried to pass herself off as a weakling." The strategy had worked rather nicely for last year's Victor. It only made sense that there would be a few Johanna copy-cats this time around.

"No." Alyssa sounded so certain. "There's no way that would work for a Career. It makes sense for the outer districts – everyone assumes they don't have a shot anyway – but you can't come in with five, ten years of training and expect people to forget about you." She had a point there. "I really don't think Gossamer's faking it either, because she's not _that_ bad. Not good enough to be here, but she's not totally incompetent."

The more she heard, the tighter the knot in her stomach grew. "Have you talked to Finnick about her? What does he think?"

"I haven't asked him." A hint of a blush crept onto Alyssa's cheeks. "We don't talk a lot."

Annie added that to the category of things she really didn't want to know more about. "Keep an eye on her."

"What did you think I was going to do, close my eyes and whistle until she put a knife through my chest?"

"Hey, it never hurts to check." Another thought came to mind. "Alyssa?"

"Yes, An –" The first blow knocked the air out of her. With Annie's second kick, Alyssa was sprawled out on the floor of her own bedroom. But the Academy was doing its job, and before Annie's third strike could hit home, Alyssa had kicked out at Annie's legs. She rolled to her feet as Annie screamed and fell next to her, and the instant she hit the floor, strong hands had her pinned down, and a thigh anchored both of her legs in place.

"Stop." It came out as a hiss of pain. She must've hit the ground harder than she'd thought. "I'm done now."

Alyssa didn't move, her narrowed eyes never leaving Annie's face. "Why should I?"

Fair question, really. Annie certainly wouldn't be in any rush to release a person who had kicked her without warning or provocation. "I was just trying to make a point, and now I've made it. I don't have a reason to attack you again."

"I'll kill you if you do," Alyssa promised, her voice dark, and Annie wondered for a moment if she really did have a future Victor on her hands.

"We won't be testing that. Come on, let me up."

"What was the point?"

"That you need to watch out. I had you distracted, and I'm not even cute."

* * *

He had missed the first target. Finnick had bad shots, everyone did, but it had been years since he completely missed the target. And yet, when it mattered most, he fucked up. It wouldn't matter to the gamemakers that he had hit the rest of them dead center, or that he could tie some incredible knots or that he alone of the careers had made an effort at the plants station.

The scary part, the one he'd rather not think about, was that his training score wasn't what really mattered. There were no second chances in the Arena, and he had shown that he couldn't perform under pressure. At age seven, he had decided he would win. Finnick hadn't looked back since, had never been forced to question whether he could really do it. Sparring required physical strength, speed, and a bit of cleverness. He could handle that. But the Arena?

"This coverage is awful. You're sure they don't have another broadcast?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Octavius snapped. "Not everything has to be all facts and figures, Mags. Some of us can appreciate entertainment for its own sake."

Finnick swallowed down the bile rising at the back of his throat and laughed. "Yeah, you gotta admit I look pretty great in that costume." All three of the room's female occupants turned to stare at him, their expressions ranging from amused to downright violent. He scooted away from Mags, whom he deemed his most likely attacker, and raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, it's not my fault that it's true. They noticed too." A good third of the footage so far had been of the District Four chariot a few nights prior, when he and Alyssa had been all decked out in their mermaid gear. Now, even if one ignored the fact that merpeople didn't exist, Finnick wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to win in a fight that took place on land. He still had to admit the aesthetics of it – golden nets, pearlescent seashells, scales of the softest greens and blues – made for pretty great television.

"Do you know when the real broadcast is supposed to start?" Annie asked. She and Alyssa had claimed the couch on the far wall, a giant, overstuffed thing that looked like it could to eat the two women whole.

"It said seven o'clock. Be patient, you two."

Annie pointed at the clock. "So it was supposed to start five minutes ago is what you're saying."

"It'll start when it starts, and there's nothing I can do to make it go any faster," Octavius responded. Listening to him, you'd think he'd been assigned the awful task of babysitting naughty children – and in some ways, perhaps he had. As much as it seemed to bother the mentors, Finnick didn't mind the delay. Until the screen showed the five or the six, he could pretend that he'd had a decent score, that he still had a chance.

That he hadn't been stupid enough to volunteer to die.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all been waiting for!" His stomach sank as the camera panned towards Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith. He heard only the pounding of his heart in his ears as the first scores were read, and if Mags hadn't poked him in the ribs with her cane, he doubted he would have caught it when Kassine from Two received a ten, probably the highest score they'd hear tonight. He wasn't surprised. Kassine stood six foot two and had some of the broadest shoulders he'd ever seen on a woman.

"So, which one of you is gonna knock her off?" Liam asked from the opposite couch.

Alyssa jumped on it. "Me."

"Me." Finnick's heart wasn't in it, but he knew the right answer.

"I think they'll double-team it," Annie butted in. She turned to them, her eyes serious. "You know that a lot of the big-time gamblers put money on whoever has the most kills early on, right?"

"So?" Alyssa asked.

"Something like half the sponsorship money comes from about twenty of the really big gamblers. They see it as an investment and will do whatever they can to make sure you win," Annie explained, and Mags and Liam nodded. "If you get rid of a strong competitor like Two early, you become the favorite."

He had eaten lunch with Kassine. That wasn't some great bond, but they'd laughed together, and talked, and she'd shared that she had two sisters at home just like he did. And now, Finnick was thinking about the possibility of holding her down while Alyssa finished her off. He shuddered and used every scrap of willpower he had to push his attention back towards the television. Average score for the Three girl, and then…

"Finnick Odair, District Four. He's one to watch, isn't he?" The screen shifted away from the announcers to show his statistics overlayed on footage of his arrival at the train station. They'd listed him as six foot two. Cool. Finnick doubted he'd really passed that mark yet, but if Dad's six four frame was any indication, he still had a few inches left in him - assuming he survived the next couple weeks.

"He certainly is. And don't worry, Claudius, I'm sure the young ladies out there have been doing plenty of watching." Annie snorted at Caesar's joke, and heat rushed to Finnick's cheeks.

 _10_

"And with a score like that, I'm sure we'll be hearing a lot more from Finnick!"

Liam's cheer seemed faded, as though he was hearing it from miles away. Finnick frowned at the screen, waiting for them to notice their mistake, but Caesar and Claudius had already moved on to Alyssa. He sagged back into the couch. "Hey!" he yelped when Mags' cane caught him in the ribs.

"Good job, boy." She wore a smile, the first one he'd managed to get out of her.

"Thanks," he said, rubbing the sore spot on his side. "Did you really have to do that?"

She winked at him. "Character building. Can't let it get to your head."

* * *

"She seems very smart."

"She is," Annie responded. In the darkness of the theater, she could hardly make out her companion's features. She preferred it that way. "She's good with a knife, too."

"Does she have what it takes to win the whole thing?" the man pressed, the urgency of a fortune behind his words.

"Absolutely." She sounded more confident than she felt. "Alyssa's one of the most promising tributes Four has had in years. I know her training score didn't quite meet up to Two's –" _or Finnick's_ , she added mentally " – but I think she has grit. That's the hard part, you know." Maybe he wouldn't realize that this was a script Mags had taught her during her first year of mentoring, the script they used when everything but hope and a hint of a gut feeling said their tribute would die. "Kids in Four join their parents on the boats when they're five, and pretty much any weapon that you could use to kill a fish can be used just as easily on a person. We've got tons of kids who are capable enough with a trident to go into the Arena."

"And not as many who have enough stamina to swim for seventeen hours?"

Those words twisted in her gut like a knife, but she smiled anyway. Annie hoped he could see it, that the effort was worth it. "There's a point where physical stamina stops mattering and the emotional part kicks in."

She wanted to add more, but was nearly deafened by the crowd's roar as Finnick stepped onto the stage for his interview. Bare-chested and with his skin polished until it gleamed, he looked more like a living, breathing statue than an actual human being, and the way he smiled at the crowd, blowing kisses, waving, eating up their attention, was more than any mentor could have asked for. The boy had stage presence. She had to give him that.

A hand tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and Annie jumped. "It's just me, love." The words gave her no comfort, but fingers lingered behind to brush her cheek. "So, Annie, what do you think of our friend here?"

She chose her words carefully. "I don't think there's a bad bet in Four this year," she managed, her fingernails digging into her armrest, grounding herself in case her body tried to bolt.

"No, but a part of me thinks one bet is better than the other." The purple light from the stage reflected off his wine glass. "To our next Victor?"

She gripped her own glass so tightly that she worried it would crack. "To Four."

His eyes were laughing as he shook his head in false disappointment, and Annie pretended to take a sip, hoping no one would notice how her hands shook.

* * *

 **A/N:** I thought it might take a fortnight. Apparently, this story wanted to take four months. I apologize for that - I realized I didn't like the plot as I'd outlined it and decided to try something different. I hope you're enjoying the story! Feedback, as always, is much appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

In the otherwise-silent apartment, a single rap of his knuckles against her door seemed deafening. "Alyssa?" he whispered. He waited a moment, and when he heard no movement from her room, he gave the frame another quiet tap, careful not to wake anyone else. She would hear him. "Alyssa, can I come in?"

"Go away, Finnick."

"I can't sleep." She was silent, which he found encouraging. "Can I please come in? I just want to lie down." _I don't want to be alone right now._

"No." He had known Alyssa for years, ever since Dad finally gave his reluctant permission for Finnick to train. He knew when she had made up her mind, when there would be no more discussion, no wheedling that would convince her to budge a centimeter from her decision. Still, Finnick lingered outside, hoping she would take pity on him. She knew him just as well, for there was laughter just beneath the surface of her next words. "You know, people are going to think you're creepy if you keep standing outside women's doors after they tell you to leave."

"I'm not going to make a habit of it."

He could almost hear her eyeroll. "Go get some sleep, Finnick. You're going to wake everyone up."

"I've tried. I can't." Even to his own ears, he sounded like a whiny child.

"Then get some milk or something." Her voice turned soft, gentle, all the things he'd never associated with her before. "You've got to try, Finn. This is the last good rest you're going to get in a while."

 _Maybe ever_ , his mind supplied, helpful as ever. He understood his situation. Twenty-four in, one out. Right around a four percent chance of survival if everyone's odds really were even, a little more because they weren't. Even if the victors always came from the Careers, and history said they didn't, he only had a one in six shot. Finnick pushed away the thoughts, but they always lingered, like the dogs that lived by the wharf, the great ugly things that lurked about, waiting for the fishermen to turn their backs for just a second or two to steal their catch.

The Avoxes always left the kitchen light on at night. It didn't seem necessary, as the neon lights of the city filtered in through every window, bathing the rooms in an odd rainbow of fluorescent purples, greens, and pinks. The blinking pink sign across the street sent shadows dancing across the refrigerator as he rifled through its contents, trying to find milk like Alyssa had suggested. Fruit juice, the fizzy drink Octavius had them try at dinner last night, red and white wine, three things of cheese that all looked about the same to him but Finnick suspected were very different in the minds of Capitol natives… he could get used to having so much food around. He found the milk hiding behind an enormous bowl of ready-cut fruit that he would bet anything was replenished every day whether or not anyone had eaten a piece.

"I'm glad you're not getting into the booze. I'd hate to have to tell Mags on you."

Finnick jumped at the sound of Annie's voice, but he recovered quickly. "She'd skin me alive, you know."

"And she'd enjoy every minute of it too." She grinned, one side of her mouth pulling up further than the other, and set her book aside, dog-earing her page first. "No she wouldn't. Mags is nicer than you give her credit for, and she likes you."

He frowned. "I think you've got me confused for someone else." Finnick fetched a glass from the cupboard. "Would you like some?"

"No thanks." He could feel her eyes on him as he poured himself a glass. "How are you holding up?"

Finnick put off answering by taking a long swig from his glass. He didn't particularly like the taste of milk, but at this point, a beverage that should make him sleepy and bought him a few seconds to think sounded like a miracle. "I remember the night before being the toughest," Annie added in explanation.

"Out of all of it?" he asked, suddenly hopeful.

She winced. "Sorry, bad wording. Out of the nights in the Capitol, this one was the worst. I don't think I slept at all." Annie patted the seat next to her. "Want to sit down?"

He took the spot, sinking into the cushions. After a week spent in luxury here, he was sure the Arena would seem even harsher. "I'm not convinced you ever sleep," he joked, but the words fell flat.

"Not much while I'm here, unfortunately, but I promise that I do every once in a while." Purple light reflected off her thick, shiny hair. He wanted to reach out a hand to see if it was as soft as it looked. He didn't. "You never answered my question," she nudged.

He shrugged. "I could be doing better."

"Yeah?"

"Some second thoughts," he admitted, his voice nothing more than a whisper. The night must be getting to him. In daylight, he wouldn't have dared to confess that, not even to himself, and certainly not out loud. Or maybe she was getting to him. Nobody could blame him for that, not once they saw the kindness in those big green eyes, not once they heard the understanding in her voice.

Definitely not once her small, soft hand covered theirs. "I'm not sure it helps any, but from what I've heard from the other Careers, most volunteers start second-guessing themselves at some point."

"It's not like that." He turned his hand over and took hers, not sure if he did so for the comfort she provided or to pin her down, keep her from leaving. "This was my third try. I could've been doing this two years ago, would have if I was lucky, and I'm still not ready."

"Third try?" she echoed, confused.

He nodded. "I put my name in at fourteen, then at fifteen, and now. It took my chances up from fifty percent to eighty-seven percent. I worked it out one time." He choked out a laugh. It was that or cry, and he refused to cry now, not when he'd gotten himself here in the first place. "I guess it's a good thing it didn't work the first time. Mags was pretty mad this time around, when I'm just as big and almost as capable as the real volunteers, so I'm not sure I would've made it to the Arena at fourteen." Finnick didn't want to look at her, so he polished his milk off instead. Unfortunately, once it was gone, he didn't have another prop to turn to, and no excuse to ignore her disappointment.

To his surprise, he didn't find any in her next words. "No, I don't imagine you would have." She pulled her hand away, and he hung on for a longer than he should have before letting it go. "I don't imagine it helps to say there's nothing to be done now."

Finnick snorted. "Can't make it any worse."

"Have you talked to Alyssa?" she asked, hesitant.

"She told me to go away." He shook his head. "You should too. You're not my mentor. You don't have to bother with my mess." _She's hoping you die._ The thought came to him unbidden, and it stopped him, freezing the blood in his veins. _She's Alyssa's mentor. She wants you to die so she can win._

Annie gave him one of those sad, half-smiles that most reserved for the most pitiful of creatures. "You should get some rest."

"I tried." He had, tossing and turning and thinking for hours before he'd given up and gone to Alyssa, and one glass of milk wasn't going to help anything.

"Try again. Sleep out here if you need the company."

"I don't want to keep you up," he protested, but he hoped she would stay. A glass of milk wasn't going to fix his insomnia, but maybe she could.

To his relief, Annie shook her head. "I was planning on sticking around and reading anyway." She nodded towards her book. "I've got about five chapters left and really need to know what happened."

"Butler did it." Finnick moved to the other couch, stretching out on his stomach across it. The smooth, buttery leather felt marvelous against his skin, and the cushions had just the right amount of give to be soft without feeling like they were trying to eat him whole. His entire body relaxed into its embrace. "With a candlestick," he added. "In the greenhouse."

Annie snorted. "It's not a mystery."

"Hmm." Damn, this was comfy. Finnick's eyelids were already growing heavy, and his thoughts slowed from racing to plodding. "You said you had five chapters left. You don't know how it's going to turn out. Might be a murder."

"I'll be sure to let you know in the morning." She might have said something after that, but Finnick wasn't awake to hear it.


End file.
